


Imperfect Portraits

by rbmifan



Category: Naruto
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Mid Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbmifan/pseuds/rbmifan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An outcast Hyuuga tries desperately to become stronger. A bored missing nin is undercover as a painter. Sometimes only an artist can see the true beauty hidden in the portrait. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Snow and Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes: Deidara's blond-haired and blue-eyed in this (I'm not sure what the official colours are). This takes place in the middle of the time skip. While there is no romantic interaction in the fic, it's intended to be pre-het. Read it however you wish.

Prologue: Of Snow and Sorrow

The wind screamed as it whipped snow violently against anyone stupid enough to be outside in the blizzard. Deidara pulled his coat more tightly around him as he trudged down the street, reminding himself that he had survived worse weather than this. He debated the risk of using his mechanical eye, currently covered by a long fringe of hair. The snow had dyed the town completely white and made it impossible to see anything more than a foot away. It was unlikely that anyone would see him. Still...if Sasori found out he'd never hear the end of it. Deidara sighed, sending a cloud of vapour out that was quickly snatched away by the wind. He hated undercover missions.

He paused at a narrow alleyway, sheltered by the two towering buildings on either side and reasonably free of snow, as the wind got worse, debating whether to camp out there until it let up some. As a particularly strong gust sent a wad of snow flying in his face, he made up his mind and quickly ducked into the alley. Shivering slightly, he shook his head in an attempt to shake the snow off, remembering why he didn't like the Snow Country. As he was returning the hair (unbound for once, since ponytails and wet hair did _not_ go together), he noticed a dark, huddled shape just a few feet from his boots.

Squatting beside the figure, Deidara could tell by the way the shoulders were shaking that he or she was crying. He hesitated - he hadn't the faintest idea how to comfort someone - but not even he was heartless enough to leave a child, since the figure was about the size of a fourteen year old, there. Reaching one hand out hesitantly, he brushed some of the smooth, raven-black hair from a pale, noticably feminine face.

"Hey," he half-whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the wind, trying to get her (for she was a girl) attention. "Why are you crying?"

He thought for a minute that she hadn't heard him, and was almost about to try again before giving up, when she slowly lifted white, tear-filled eyes to his. Recognition flashed briefly across her face, confusing Deidara, who had never seen the girl before in his life.

"N-Naruto..." she whispered, and he could barely hear her over the wind, before lurching forward and collapsing into his arms. Deidara, startled, forced himself not to flinch away as he tried to figure out what to do. He knew enough about the major bloodlines of the Hidden Countries to recognize the girl's eye colour. She was no doubt a shinobi - and almost certainly an enemy - and if he was smart he would have left before she came to her senses. Judging by the purple tint to her lips and the unfocused look of her eyes in the brief moment they made eye contact, however, he doubted she would survive long enough to come to her senses left here. Which left him in a situation, since (conrary to popular belief) the idea of leaving a girl to die didn't sit right with him. Besides, right now he was supposed to be a civilian. And a civilian would see only a girl in need to help.

He sighed, letting out another cloud of white vapour. Sasori would kill him if he found out what he was about to do. Taking off his jacket, he wrapped it around the girl, trying to keep her body temperature from falling any farther. Then, ignoring the freezing wind biting at his skin, he lifted her up bridal style and set off toward the apartment he'd rented for the mission as fast as he could without drawing suspicion. Not that anybody was likely to see anyway, but Deidara was taking enough risks as it was.


	2. An Odd Sort of Introduction

It was dark. Why was it so dark? A distant part of Hinata's mind told her she should be concerned, but she couldn't find the energy to listen. She was so tired, and so warm. Wait…warm? The distant voice grew sharper. She shouldn't be warm. Why shouldn't she be warm? Snow…

She remembered. It had been snowing. She had run outside without a coat. _Stupid thing to do_ , the voice told her. But she hadn't been listening at the time. Her father…yes, her father…it had been her first solo mission. She had been so proud. She would make her father proud of her, finally. The mission…

It had been an amateur mistake. No, not even that. She saw that now, and should have seen it then. But it was too late…the mission was a failure, a horrible failure. Her father…her father had told her not to bother coming back. There…that was the reason. Hinata felt the wave of despair again – that was the reason she'd fled into the blizzard without a coat even though it had been stupid.

The voice told her she was being unreasonable, that her father couldn't possible have meant what he'd said. If nothing else, he would never let a Hyuuga, and a main branch Hyuuga no less, become a missing-nin when every village in the Hidden Countries wanted the byakugan. It was very persistent with its argument. Hinata found it annoying. She was too tired to be reasonable right now.

But…she still didn't know why she was warm. It was so hard to concentrate. Hinata struggled to think now, her mind moving sluggishly. There had been somebody there. She remembered something yellow…blue eyes…Naruto…

Suddenly the fog lifted, banished by the sudden realization, and Hinata sat bolt upright. The room was strange…where was she? Where was Naruto? Her eyes scanned the room anxiously, taking in the white-wash walls, the plain wood floor, the simple couch across the room where a blond figure lay. The figure that was now moving. One brilliant blue eye cracked open at her sudden movement, partially hidden behind long bangs falling over it. That wasn't Naruto.

"You feeling better?" the blond man asked sleepily, pushing himself upright and brushing the hair out of his eyes with a lazy gesture. Something that resembled a notepad clattered to the floor as soon as the arm was lifted, but the man ignored it.

Hinata's eyes grew wide. Half-delirious with cold and an emotional wreck, she must have mistaken this stranger for Naruto. She'd never been more embarrassed in her life. And now she was in an awkward situation. She was pretty sure this would be considered worse than just talking to strangers.

The man seemed oblivious to her distress, and had already walked, yawning, into the kitchen, clothes rumpled from sleeping in them and hair tangled in a bad case of bed head. Hinata was left alone with her thoughts. She sat up carefully and took stock of her condition. She had no idea how long she'd been out in the blizzard, but there didn't seem to be any lasting effects. She'd been lucky.

The situation wasn't so bad, she told herself. Her rescuer seemed nice enough, and a glance through her pockets and usual hiding spots revealed that he hadn't touched her things. Hinata figured she could simply thank him and be on her way. She would pack her things and return to Konoha. Though she dreaded facing her father, especially after their last conversation, she couldn't fathom doing anything else. Now that she was thinking more objectively, she knew there was no way she would actually be kicked out of her clan, let alone the village. She felt a little silly for overreacting like she had, though she knew it was because she'd already been on the edge from the mission and the stress.

The man was back, carrying two small tea cups, and Hinata decided to get things over with. "Umm…I'm sorry to have caused you such trouble," she said softly. It was only polite, but she hated the way her voice trembled. She must be more nervous than she'd thought. The man looked surprised, briefly, but covered it with an easy smile.

"It wasn't a problem, un." He placed a cup in her hands. "A girl as pretty as you shouldn't be crying, un."

Hinata froze, reply sticking in her throat. Had he…no, he was just being friendly. Still, she couldn't help but blush at his words. Nobody had ever called her pretty – not since her mother had died. "Still, it was stupid. I should have known better."

The blond just nodded in agreement and collapsed back on the couch. "You should drink your tea, anyway, un. It'll make you feel better."

"Ah…thank you." She supposed it wouldn't hurt, and she was thirsty. Tentatively, she took a sip. It was good, she realized. Really good. She told him as much, and he just grinned, already half done his own.

"My...friend made the recipe, un."

Hinata wondered at the pause, but it was really none of her business. She put it out of her mind. "He's very talented."

"Yeah."

The silence that followed as they sipped their tea was only slightly uncomfortable. Hinata drank it slowly, reveling in the warmth it sent spiraling down her body. At length, she realized she had been sitting there for quite some time, head resting on the wall behind her and cup empty on her lap. She'd fallen asleep, she realized with a start.

 _I must be more tired than I thought_ , she mused. The man was nowhere to be seen – he must have left while she was dozing. She sighed. It was time to leave, she supposed. Konoha would be expecting her back, and she had no idea how much time had passed since she'd given her report.

She placed the tea cup carefully on the nightstand beside the bed and stood up. She found the blond man in the room across the hall, sitting amidst a whirlwind of canvas, paint, pastels, and paper. He looked up as she entered, pausing in setting up a canvas on a wooden table that filed half the room.

""You're leaving, un?" he inquired, standing up. She nodded, realizing then that she didn't know where the door was. The man smiled and, as if reading her thoughts, offered to show her out. "Do you want to borrow a coat? It's probably cold out, and you wouldn't want to collapse again, un."

Hinata looked at the coat, considering. She didn't like the idea of just taking someone's coat, and she would be leaving the village as soon as possible. Still, it was cold out. Without it, the walk back to her hotel would be pretty miserable…

"All right," she agreed. "But only for the walk back. I will return it before I leave the village."

The man flashed the same smile as before, and to Hinata it seemed just a bit too automatic, reminding her of yet another blond she knew. He handed her a worn brown coat only slightly too big for her, scavenged from a tiny closet at the other end of the hall. Hinata put it on awkwardly, feeling self-conscious, as the blond man turned to an old wooden door beside the closet. Deftly undoing five different locks, three of which Hinata hadn't noticed before he undid them, he finally turned the doorknob and pushed out. The door didn't budge. Frowning, he pushed harder. The door gave an inch, protesting even that. He stared at it and muttered something about low-quality doors getting stuck. He took a step back, regarding the door seriously, and kicked it. Hard. Hinata winced as the door gave a loud crack, and the man sort of froze.

"Guess it's really stuck," he admitted belatedly. Hinata just walked over to a window in the kitchen just beside the door that looked just as old as the door. It was situated just above the kitchen sink and was covered in patched brown drapes, which Hinata flipped back to peer outside. Her eyes widened at what she saw. The blizzard had run its course, leaving snow drifts as high as a man at their peak and valleys that almost reached the bottom of the window. Either one could have successfully blocked the door.

The snow hadn't been nearly that high when she had left the hotel room, she knew that much. So how long had she been asleep? She started as she felt the man peer over her shoulder, whistling at the sight outside the window. She hadn't heard him walk up at all, and that disturbed her. A civilian shouldn't have been able to do that, not unless she was really losing it.

"They really weren't kidding about the snow here, un," the man murmured. "Do you want to try climbing out the window, un? Or do you want to stay here until the snow melts a bit?"

"Ah…well…" Hinata couldn't believe her luck, and not in a good way. At this rate she'd be stuck in the village for a week or more. She sighed, there was no changing the weather, she supposed. She'd have been just as snowed in at the hotel – in fact she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get into the hotel if she left now. She didn't have much of a choice, then. "If it's not too much trouble…"

"Nah, I don't mind, un." The man finally moved away from the window and towards the door they'd come through. "The room you woke up in is the guest room, un. I just have to get some things from it first; you can raid the kitchen while you wait."

While he had his back turned, Hinata acted on a suspicion that had been forming ever since he'd moved so silently to the window. Activating her byakugan, she turned to regard the retreating man. What she saw made her eyes widen in shock. As she'd expected, the man's charka coils were longer than normal and pulsed slightly from a constant flow of charka. Only shinobi had coils that long and that active. What she wasn't expecting was the odd arrangement. The coils were unusually sparse on every area of his body except his hands and mouth, where they were so densely packed she could barely make out the individual coils. It reminded her of the coil arrangements for the doujutsu bloodlimits – with the coils focused around the eyes. Not just a shinobi, then, but one with a bloodlimit.

Hinata frowned. Perhaps staying hadn't been a good idea after all. She didn't know who much he knew about her or what village he was from – for all she knew he'd been sent after her. It had happened before. If he had, she was at a disadvantage. He would have studied her fighting style beforehand, and if he was anything above chuunin she wouldn't stand much of a chance.

She sighed and collapsed into the nearest chair, putting her arms on the small table decorating the center of the kitchen and resting her head on them. She'd turned off her byakugan as soon as the man had disappeared into the hall. The Hyuuga were a well known clan, but there was still a chance this man didn't know about them. Hinata gave a small smile at that thought. Why was it that all the complicated situations happened to her?

The man was back, carrying a small bag slung casually over one shoulder. He barely spared her a glance as he deposited the bag in the broom closet beside the window. There was a silver lining in all this, Hinata decided as she eyed the shinobi's back, remembering how it had looked through byakugan. She might get a chance to examine this strange bloodlimit further. She'd always found the different bloodlimits fascinating, but most of the clans back in Konoha were wary of having their charka systems examined.

As if he sensed her eyes on him, which was likely, the man turned around and gave her a questioning look. Hinata felt her face redden slightly as she realized she'd been staring. Immediately, her manners kicked in and she averted her eyes with a murmured apology. When she glanced back, however, he was still looking at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. She frowned. What was he thinking?

Whatever it was, Hinata never got the chance to ask. Just as she opened her mouth she was interrupted by a low, gurgling growl, and Hinata remembered with a start that she hadn't eaten since before the mission. The man looked at her blankly for a second, then started to laugh, an easy, casual laugh that didn't reach his eyes.

"Didn't I tell you to raid the kitchen, un?" He closed the broom closet and ambled over to the refrigerator. "What do you like, un?"

"Ah…anything will do. I'm not picky," She really wasn't. Her mother had often commented on what a pleasure she was to cook for. Hinata smiled at the memory.

"Then we're having instant ramen, un. I don't feel like cooking." That said, the man bypassed the fridge altogether in favour of the cabinet to the right, pulling out two instant ramen cups. As he was filling them with water, Hinata was reminded of the one time Naruto had incited her over for dinner. He'd tried to act enthusiastic, showing her in as if to a palace, but she could tell he'd been nervous.

This man…he was a lot like Naruto. He was calmer, more mature, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Because of that…being around this strange shinobi was almost familiar. But he was still a strange shinobi, she reminded herself, and she couldn't let her guard down while around him.

She blinked as a ramen cup nudged her nose, then sighed. Not letting her guard down was easier said than done. Reaching up, she accepted the cup and a pair of chopsticks. As the man sat down opposite of her and snapped open his own chopsticks, she idly noted that whatever mission this man was on he wasn't staying here long. Otherwise he wouldn't have only disposable utensils.

The silence started to become uncomfortable, and Hinata found herself wishing for a distraction. She stirred her ramen nervously, trying to come up with a decent topic of conversation.

"So…" She remembered the room she had glimpsed as they had left the guest room. "Are you a painter?"

He glanced up, noodles still hanging from his mouth, and blinked at her. Despite herself, Hinata giggled at the sight, then slapped a hand over her mouth, face blushing scarlet. She couldn't believe she'd just done that. The absolute rudest reaction she could have had. The man, thankfully, didn't seem offended as he pushed the noodles all the way into his mouth and swallowed.

"There's nothing wrong with laughing, you know," he informed her seriously. "This isn't a banquet or anything, un." He waved his chopsticks in the air as he spoke.

"Ah, I'm sorry. It's just that I was taught that it is terribly impolite to laugh at somebody, especially during a meal."

"Right, right. You're from one of those rich families." His grin only grew wider at her startled look. "What, you thought I didn't know? It's obvious to anyone actually looking. The way you walk, the way you talk, even the way you blush just screams "well-bred."

Hinata didn't know what to say about that. She hadn't known it was that obvious. "I see. Well…you haven't answered my question. That could also be considered rude."

The man scowled at her halfheartedly. "Whatever. Yeah, I'm a painter." His chopsticks were back in the ramen cup now and his hand now supported his cheek. Suddenly, as if just remembering something, his eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, that's right. I'm supposed to do a portrait for this contest thing the guy that hired me is doing. Since it'll be a while before the snow melts, do you want to pose for it?"

Hinata was caught by surprise. Had this been the reason for the thoughtful look earlier? She thought about it, and couldn't see any harm. While anyone who'd heard of the Hyuuga would recognize the significance of her eye colour, they would have no way of finding her though it. And since the man was a shinobi, he'd be able to take care of himself if they traced the painting back to him. She told him she would, and he seemed genuinely pleased.

"We'll start tomorrow, then. I have to get some things ready." He paused, and a slightly bemused look crossed his face. "I still don't know your name."


	3. Of Snow and Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for any mistakes in the actual process of painting, etc. I really don't know anything about it besides that one painting I did in art class, so most of this is guesswork. Feel free to correct me on anything you find that's not quite right.

In truth, Deidara didn't much like painting. He'd only agreed on the job because, of all the Akatsuki, he was the only one with any degree of talent at it. And then Pein had made him take a year long crash course on it just to make his ability good enough to be believable. He'd hated every minute of it – sitting in class again like a student, when he'd thought he'd left all that behind in Iwa.

As he selected the paint brushes he would need, he instinctively watched the girl, Hinata, from the corner of his eye. She was a pretty thing, of that there was no doubt, and if not for her eyes, and the headband and weapons a quick search had uncovered, he would never have suspected her of being a shinobi. Whereas life as a missing-nin had taught him to always stay alert, the girl had obviously led a safer, more sheltered life. She sat with her back to the door, dangerously vulnerable to silent assailants. Her hands were clasped politely in front of her, well away from the kunai he knew were hidden in ankle pouches, and her legs were curled under her, where she could not spring up quickly in an emergency. In a friendly village, surrounded by shinobi taught to protect her at all costs, such measures weren't as critical, he supposed. Even on missions she'd have been surrounded by teammates, from what Itachi told of Konoha. Which made him wonder what she was doing alone so far from her village.

"Please sit straight, un." The girl started and hurriedly turned to face him, and he wondered briefly how Konoha could allow its shinobi to be so high-strung. He put it out of his mind as he studied her critically, deciding on how to go about the painting. "Now turn your head to the right, un, just a little."

That was all right, he decided. Not like he was painting a masterpiece or something. Picking up a pencil, he began to draw an outline.

* * *

At noon, Deidara glanced at the clock above the door. Sticking his brush in a jar of water beside him, he blew a strand of hair away from his face and stood up. "We're done for the day, un."

Hinata just nodded, watching him as he started collecting the brushes to be cleaned. "I could help clean," she suggested softly. Deidara considered it. There wasn't all that much to clean, but whatever. It meant less work for him, and he'd be able to keep an eye on her. Though he didn't consider her much of a threat, it wouldn't do if she went snooping.

He scooped up some other things he'd been putting off cleaning and put them with the brushes, dumping the entire batch in the old sink tucked away in a far corner. "Just don't break the brushes or anything, un," he told her. The girl smiled at that, as if she was relieved at being able to help. Odd girl.

Sticking a brush full of paint under the water, he flicked the bristles absently, and heard a squeak from beside him. Turning, he saw that a glob of paint from his brush had landed on her cheek. Hinata had frozen, eyes wide with shock, and Deidara couldn't help but laugh at the expression on her face. Cheeks going pink, she quickly wiped at the spot, succeeding only in smearing it over her face and hands. Deidara dug up a wet cloth and threw it to her, pretending he didn't notice the speed at which she caught it. By the time she'd cleaned up, Deidara was done his brushes and had pulled himself up to perch on the drawing table. Hinata folded the cloth carefully after washing it and set it aside, causing Deidara to grin at her meticulousness.

"Deidara," she began quietly as she cleaned the brush she was holding as carefully as she'd cleaned the cloth. "Why did you save me?" The act of cleaning seemed to calm the nerves that had had her jumping earlier, and now her voice was almost serene.

Deidara was caught off guard by the question, but only a little bit. He studied her for a moment, deciding she was the moral type. So he gave her the answer she'd like best. "I couldn't just leave you out there, un. You'd have died."

"Maybe…" She set the last brush aside, not looking at him. "I don't believe that's the only reason."

Deidara raised an eyebrow. She was perceptive. Almost scarily perceptive. He grinned, this little visit was definitely going to be interesting. "All right, you got me, un. I was bored, and picking people up off the streets is always fun."

Hinata was silent at that. Finished her work, she rinsed off her hands and turned to face him. Her smile was polite, but there was a thoughtful look in her eyes. "I suppose that works," she conceded. For some reason, that annoyed Deidara, that she was so calm about being picked up on a whim.

"You're not bothered by that at all, un." He phrased it as a statement, but was suddenly very curious as to what her answer would be. She was a Hyuuga, a member of an extremely prestigious clan. She should be used to getting her own way, and she certainly shouldn't be so calm about being treated as a mere distraction.

"No. Not really." She looked at him, a slightly confused expression on her face, as if she truly didn't understand why she should be upset.

"Why not?" Deidara pressed..

"Well…why should I be? I don't know whether I would have died out there if you hadn't happened to come by…and if you hadn't happened to be bored. So, really, I'm very lucky. That's the way I see it." Hinata's smile was patient, dismissing his confusion and apologizing for the dismissal at the same time, though the apology did little to curb Deidara's annoyance at the dismissal.

"You have a strange way of seeing things, un," was all he said. Slipping off the table, he motioned for Hinata to go ahead of him to the hall. The short walk to the kitchen was spent in silence. Hinata seemed absorbed in her thoughts, and Deidara was trying to figure out what to do after lunch, since he'd originally planned to go flying.

"If you don't feel like cooking, I could do it instead." Hinata spoke up suddenly when they'd reached the kitchen. The offer was tentative, and she glanced at him as if she expected him to refuse.

"You cook a lot, un?" It was an odd skill for someone who had servants to take care of any domestic tasks, and shinobi weren't required to know more than basic campfire cooking. Deidara himself hadn't learned how to cook at all until after he went missing-nin.

"Ah…yes." Hinata lowered her head as if ashamed of the fact. "I…like cooking. And it's something I'm all right at. So…please. I don't want to feel like I'm imposing, so I want to help any way I can."

Deidara stared at her for a few minutes, then plopped himself down on one of the chairs. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's unhealthy to be so helpful, un?" He waved toward the fridge anyway. "Knock yourself out."

* * *

After lunch, Hinata excused herself and retired to her room, leaving Deidara alone for the first time that day. He waited in the kitchen for several minutes after she left, passing the time by sticking the leftovers in the fridge (she was a surprisingly good cook, despite what she thought), then silently followed her out. He stopped at the door to the guest room and listened, hearing only the soft swishing of movement and an almost indiscernible sound of feet hitting the floor with rhythmic regularity. Taijutsu practice, probably. At the very least, she was dedicated. He had a good hour or two before she was likely to wander outside the room.

Having determined that, he left the girl to her practice and went to his own room. Shutting the door firmly behind him, he sat down at a simple desk he'd picked up on the side of the road the day after he'd arrived in the town. A pad of paper and several pens were the only objects on it. Deidara deftly ripped a piece of paper from the pad and picked out a pen from the pile. He didn't make a practice of writing up reports, for obvious reasons, and they were rarely necessary besides, but he'd been told very firmly that he was to report any complications whatsoever that arose during this particular mission. He knew better than to inquire as to why.

 _I'm in. The man hired me on the spot, I don't see why you were worried about it. My performance was absolutely flawless. Better than the Uchiha could've done. Anyway, once I finish the first assignment he's given me I should be able to secure a private audience with him. It's so easy I'm bored._

He paused, wondering if he should mention Hinata. No...he'd overreact. If all went well, nobody would have to know, and he was already taking a risk by his tone in the letter.

 _Anyway, you had told me to report any complications. There was a blizzard here yesterday and it looks like I'll be snowed in for a while. It's not a serious setback, unless there's a deadline for this I'm not aware of, but the mission will take longer than expected._

The report done, he quickly folded the note and opened the bottommost drawer in the desk, releasing the false bottom to retrieve a small bag hidden underneath. Reaching into the bag, he took out a small lump of clay and quickly fashioned it into an equally small bird, which he then handed the note to. Walking to the window, he pushed back the blinds, opened it, and let the clay bird fly off. As he did so, he noticed that it had started snowing again and couldn't restrain a groan of frustration. He'd expected to be inside for a few days at most, but if the weather kept up they'd be snowed in for weeks.

Sighing, he exited the room and started wandering down the hall to his 'work room', yawning as he did so. Odd that he'd be tired this early in the afternoon. Probably from boredom, he reasoned. He was just half a dozen steps from Hinata's room when he heard a yelp from behind the door, interrupting him from further musing. He paused; looked back. Lessons in proper etiquette, drilled into him at a young age and tossed aside soon after, stirred from the back of his mind. With any of his 'comrades,' he'd have ignored it, but this was a guest. He retraced his steps and knocked lightly on the door.

"You okay," he inquired casually, but with enough concern that she wouldn't think him callous. Some people took offence to that, he'd noticed. Normally he wouldn't care, but if he was going to be stuck with her for a week or more it was best to start on good terms. He grinned at that thought: Sasori would be speechless if he knew that Deidara did, in fact, know how to make people like him.

There was a pause at his knock; then some hurried scuffling. "Y-yes, I'm fine." Hinata's voice was slightly flustered, but she didn't add anything more. A few seconds later, he heard her soft footfalls begin anew. She was persistent, if a bit clumsy. Deidara turned away, and sighed again. He was back with nothing to do. He was about to follow Hinata's example and get some training in (with what, he hadn't decided yet) when he was interrupted by another huge yawn. On second thought, a nap was sounding better and better. In his work room, so he'd hear Hinata leaving her room. That decided, he continued into the room, heading toward the couch tucked away at the back (for pulling all-nighters, he supposed). He was halfway to the couch when he stumbled, catching himself on the center tables and knocking over a glass bottle. The room started getting hazy, and he barely heard the shatter of glass that followed the bottle. Suddenly alarmed, he lurched the rest of the way to the couch and forced his drooping eyes to stay open and his head to focus. What was happening to him? How…and then he remembered that Hinata had made lunch. Had she…drugged it? She shouldn't know he was anything other than a civilian – not even Itachi could see through his acting. But…

He lost the fight to keep his eyes open, and his thoughts trailed off as the drug shut down his body and plunged him into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. Loyalty and Ambition

Hinata could hardly believe what she had done, but it was much too late to back out now. The idea had started when she was cleaning the paintbrushes – no, even before then. Perhaps it had started the minute she had discovered he was a shinobi. He had seemed sincere enough when he had given his reason for picking her up; so had Neji when he professed loyalty to the main house just months before the chuunin exam, and Hanabi when she claimed that it didn't bother her when Hiashi forgot her birthday. Shinobi were deceitful by nature. It was only necessary, considering their line of work.

Shinobi were also dangerous. And it had been drilled into her at an early age that those from other villages were not to be trusted – even those claiming to be allies. She was reminded often of the night she had almost been lost to the clan forever, carried away by Kumo-nin in Konoha on a peace mission. It was for this reason that she couldn't just stay in the same house as a shinobi who was obviously not from Konoha. It had started snowing again, and she could tell they would be stuck inside for quite some time yet. That was why she had to know who he was, or at least who he answered to, and that was also why it was such a reckless thing to do. If he caught her, there was no way to escape. He had to be at least on her level, and this was his territory. She was at a disadvantage, but to go through a week or more without knowing…Hinata wasn't sure she could do it. She would always have a nagging worry that he was planning something.

She was counting on there being some clues in his room. A headband, perhaps, or a letter to his superior. Something that would betray his loyalties or his mission. The sedative would take affect in mere moments, and he wouldn't wake up for over an hour. This she knew with certainty – as she had told Deidara earlier, cooking was one of the few things she was good at. All this she considered as she ran through the familiar movements of her taijutsu routine. Practice usually calmed her, at least when she was doing it alone. This time, however, her worry couldn't be suppressed. So absorbed was she by it that she veered too far to the right and hit the bedside with one leg, sending her tumbling abruptly to the floor. She blinked away the sudden pain, feeling heat fly to her face at a knock on the door and Deidara asking whether she was okay. She hadn't stumbled during practice in years, even in front of her father, and though the blond hadn't seen her she was mortified that he'd heard her misstep.

"I-I'm fine," she managed to stammer out, glancing at the small clock on the bedside table as she did so. It was almost time. She resumed practice with that in mind, forcing all her second-guessing out of her mind. The deed had been done, and she needed a clear head if she was going to make the best of it. She didn't have to wait long; almost immediately after she stopped talking she heard a crash and the sound of glass breaking. She halted midstep, hair whipping around at the sudden change in movement, and listened intently. She heard several softer thumps; the sound of unsteady footsteps. Idly, it occurred to her that this was the first time she had ever heard him walk. The broken glass was unfortunate- normally the sedative took effect slowly, so the victim assumed they had just fallen asleep.

She waited several more minutes to make sure the drug had taken full effect before cautiously opening her door and glancing around. The hallway was empty, so she peaked into the nearest room, his workroom, figuring that he wouldn't have been able to get very far after the drug started taking effect. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the blond out cold on a couch near the back of the room. Thus assured, she crept down the hall towards his bedroom, hoping he hadn't had time to move anything out of the house after she'd arrived. Not that doing so would have been very easy, considering the snow still piled chest-high just outside.

The door was unlocked – the drug made people absent-minded – but she still examined it closely for traps and alarms. She knew from experience that most shinobi were incredibly paranoid. She lived with dozens of them, after all. True to form, she found a small wire trigger that she didn't care to trace back to the trap it was connected to. She disengaged it quickly and stepped into the room, eyes instinctively scanning her surroundings. She noted that the snow outside the windowsill had been recently disturbed, and headed there first to look more closely. Perhaps she had been hasty in thinking it too early for him to have moved anything.

The snow lining the edge of the sill had been pushed away, and there were traces of snow inside the sill, as well. The window had been opened, and very recently. Looking further, though, there were no other signs of activity in the snow. Even the most skilled stealth shinobi would leave some kind of footprint or depression in snow this deep. Had he just opened the window to get some air? Or was it more important than that? She shook her head, telling herself that she was reading too much into it, and focused her attention on the rest of the room. Even so, she filed away the information to the back of her mind. Just because there weren't enough clues to figure out the purpose of it now, didn't mean there wouldn't be more at a later date.

She followed the instructions of her subterfuge teacher to the letter, coating her fingers in a layer of chakra to eliminate fingerprints and activating her byakugan to avoid having to move anything. Her family's bloodlimit was well-known for its part in the Hyuuga's unique taijutsu style, but few outsiders knew that it was originally created as a means to more effectively gather information. The human body was constantly releasing trace amounts of chakra that was inevitably left behind on anything it touched. By positioning herself in the center of the room, Hinata could easily scan the entirety of it for items that had an unusual shape, or an unusually strong concentration of chakra. To Hinata, Deidara's chakra covered the room in a thin layer, thicker on objects he used often and almost invisible on objects he rarely ever used.

There was almost no chakra on the bed.

Almost, because there was a thin, fresh layer that Hinata judged less than a day old. He had slept in the bed the night before, but it had been the first time. Hinata frowned at that. Why wouldn't he sleep in his own bed? If it was just paranoia – she had a cousin who slept in a different place every night, leaving a genjutsu of himself on the bed – then why had he slept in it last night? Because she was here now, perhaps?

She moved on, sweeping the room for anything irregular; anything a civilian bedroom shouldn't have. She spotted it, then. In the bottom drawer of the desk beside the window there was a headband, lying folded and face-down beside a bag of odd, dense matter. She sighed. She was going to have to go through the desk to determine where the headband was from

She glanced at the doorway nervously, though it was too soon for the other shinobi to be awake, and crossed the room in two steps. Kneeling beside the drawer, she saw that it was locked. Deidara probably kept the key on him, ad she briefly considered borrowing it. No, she decided. It was best not to take risks. Instead, she inspected the inside of the lock with her byakugan, taking note of the shape. Then she removed a thin wire from the inner pocket of her shirt. She deftly twisted the wire into a rough key, copying the curves of the lock exactly.

The wire stuck in the lock the first time she tried it. Tugging it out, she patiently reshaped the key, scouring both the lock and the wire for the tiniest mistake. It took four tries to get the key to work. She turned the key slowly, breath slowing unconsciously as she waited for it to snag. It didn't. She closed her eyes briefly in relief, then eased the drawer open with fingers scratched from the ends of the metal wire. Inside was a bag, but she knew without looking that it was not the one she was looking for. The headband was under a false bottom, then. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards into a smile. She wouldn't expect anything less from a shinobi.

Locating the edge of the drawer and prying it loose was a simple matter with her byakugan. His fingers had left faint chakra impressions where he'd opened it before, telling her where it would open easily. She turned off her byakugan to look at the contents under a normal light. A quick inspection of the bag revealed a mound of clay, which she didn't understand. She set it aside and picked up the headband, turning it over to reveal the uneven circles that designated Iwagakure. Slashed through the middle of the design was a deep cut.

Deidara was a missing-nin.

She started to set the headband back gently, when a hand grabbed her roughly from behind, yanking her arm painfully far back. Her other hand instinctively reached for her kunai, freezing when she felt cold steel at her throat.

"And here I thought you were harmless, Hinata- _chan_."

He stood up, pulling her with him and almost making her trip over her own feet. Hinata bit her lip and fought to keep her balance as she was half-lead, half-dragged across the room. The sliver of fear that had formed when she'd seen the headband - he was a _missing-nin_ , a _criminal_ , _evil_ \- bubbled up wildly inside her chest. The calm she'd so carefully constructed over the past five hours crumbled apart, leaving her with the familiar panic of her mind going blank.

Then they were outside the room and Deidara was angling her to the side so he could push the door closed with his foot. Something snapped within Hinata as soon as the iron grip on her arm lessened; she didn't even remember slamming her left elbow into his stomach and jerking away, but she knew she had because when her mind caught up with her body she was running full-tilt down the hallway. She remembered the window in the kitchen - _escape_ \- and the direction to her feet.

She had barely reached the doorway when she felt something graze her elbow, causing her to flinch back instinctively. Then the flinch turned into a lunge for the wall as something exploded in front of her, destroying most of the doorframe and causing Hinata to shut her eyes tightly to block out the light. She winced as heat washed over her, but was pushing off of the wall and toward the kitchen almost before it started fading. Veins bulged around her eyes as she glanced behind her with the byakugan. He was following slowly behind her, but his attention was focused on a ball of chakra forming between his cupped hands. Another bomb, most likely. And he wouldn't miss next time, she knew.

She was at the kitchen door then, and she turned her attention forward as she caught the doorframe in one hand. The blackened wood crumbled under her fingers, but she caught herself before she stumbled and pushed herself inside. It only took a few strides to get to the window, but to Hinata it seemed like an impossibly long time. Every step she took could be her last. Every second that passed without event had her sure that her was standing in the doorway, mocking her. She didn't look behind her. It would distract her from the window.

Hinata's finger's slipped on the cold wood when it didn't budge under her pull. It was locked. Of course it was locked. She pushed down a sob of frustration - she was a _shinobi_ , she shouldn't panic - and concentrated on undoing the latch. She tried to work carefully, but every muscle in her body was screaming at her to move faster and the metal under her fingers was so cold it hurt to touch.

This time she felt his approach from behind. She didn't turn, only slowed her frantic scrabbling at the window. Her fingers clenched tightly on the freezing metal as she gave in to another sob, curling into the wall. How had she ever thought she could pull this off? She could barely even defeat a genin in combat, and she had had the arrogance to attempt to fool a strange shinobi who was obviously better than her.

Cool hands firmly pried her fingers off of the window and steered her body away. Inexplicably, Hinata found herself reminded of a time, long ago, when her father had pulled her from her hiding place during a thunderstorm. She had been young then, too young to be much of a disappointment, and it had felt exactly like this. For a moment she willed herself back to that time, waiting for the now-frightening blond shinobi to go away and be replaced by her father's familiar sigh as he tried to figure out what to do with her.

Then she was deposited unceremoniously onto a kitchen chair and Deidara stood in front of her looking down. Across the table and around her feet were strewn several small clay sculptures. She didn't need her byakugan to know what they were. Hinata glanced up cautiously, expecting to see anger, perhaps a murderous intent or worse. She had heard her share of stories detailing the fate of those caught by enemy shinobi.

Deidara stood silently in front of her. his posture was casual - pointedly relaxed - but his muscles were still tensed with anger. All this she had expected. His eyes, though, those clear blue eyes that had reminded her so strongly of Naruto , were clouded with disgust. She instinctively cupped her hands in her lap to hide their trembling, because she knew exactly what the cause of that disgust was.

"Not so bold now, are you, girl?" He stepped closer. When she shrank further into her seat at his approach, ducking her head, he grabbed her chin roughly and pulled her face up. "Don't flinch. It's disgraceful. And you call yourself a shinobi." Hinata felt the panic from earlier rise in her again. She had to force it down, keep her head.

"I...I am a shinobi." It wasn't convincing even to Hinata. Despite the confidence she's tried to inject into her tone her voice shook almost as badly as her hands. Deidara made a face and dropped her head.

"No you aren't. You're a spoiled, arrogant _genin_ who thinks she's all that because she's been waited on hand and foot her whole life. Tell me, have you _ever_ been in any real danger? I doubt it. Not without several _teammates_ around who'd be happy to sacrifice themselves to keep the little Hyuuga safe." He'd paced to the doorway, so that his back was toward her and she had to turn her head slightly to keep him in sight.

"I..." _I have_. But no...no she hadn't. Hadn't this been her first mission alone? Hadn't she failed it miserably, no doubt like everyone had expected? Hadn't Kiba and Shino risked themselves more than once to save her? She supposed she must seem like an awful excuse for a shinobi to this missing-nin. "I'm sorry," she whispered and ducked her head again.

She felt more than heard him stop his pacing, or perhaps she just imagined it. She didn't even lift her head to check - there wasn't any point. "You're...sorry? For what?" There was a surprised confusion in his voice that didn't last long. "For being spoiled or for being a failure?" He laughed once; a short, cynical laugh that sent a chill down Hinata's spine.

"For...disappointed everyone." She licked her lips, unsure of why she felt the need to explain herself. "You're not...the only one who thinks I'm a failure. And you're right. I've always needed people to protect me. I'm...ashamed of that." Yes. That was why she wanted so desperately to become stronger. She'd never be anything but a liability if her family and teammates always had to worry about her safety.

There was silence for a minute. Hinata found that she wasn't worried about his reaction. The panic from earlier had settled into a sort of numbness that she absently realized must be some sort of defence mechanism. What a pity it hadn't kicked in earlier. There was a 'hmph' from in front of her. She finally looked up. Deidara had moved closer and was looking at her with a curious expression. "You admit that you're pathetic. I'm not sure if that's admirable or disgraceful." She shook his head. "I can't believe I was tricked by someone of your skill level. Tell me, little genin, do you want to become less pathetic?"


	5. Fin

_The girl's eyes widened at his offer, and Deidara had to keep himself from grinning. The kid looked like she would pass out at any minute. "You would… train me?" There were conflicting emotions in that voice, the foremost being disbelief. And hope. He could read her face like a book. How in the world had she survived this long as a shinobi?_

 _She wasn't cut out for this life. But then, when had the world ever cared about that? He walked to the door and leaned against it. "It's not training. It's proving that I wasn't one-upped by someone with no talent." She had drugged him_. /iHimi. _His hands tightened into fists. And then she'd completely fallen apart. It was so pathetic it made him angry. "And you had better hope you have talent."_

 _She bowed her head at that. She didn't think she did. Wasn't that just_ /isoi _reassuring? "Put all your weapons on the floor. Then go to bed. And don't come out until exactly seven am."_

Deidara didn't sleep well that night. At all, really. He tossed and turned for a full ten minutes before giving up. It wasn't that he thought the girl would do anything. Meek as she was, and after the hope that had been plastered over her face last night, she wouldn't try to escape. But… he hadn't expected her to go snooping around, either. And she had done that with, as far as he could tell, uncharacteristic efficiency. It figured a wallflower would be good at stealth.

He stretched, checked the windows (it was so _cramped_ in this little house) and left his room. Locking it behind him (should've done that last night. But then he'd been under the influence, so to speak). He passed the girl's room in silence, reached the kitchen, then turned around and came back. He was restless, he realized. _I've been inside too long._

He stopped at her door on the fourth time past, staring at it. _This is stupid,_ he thought, _letting myself get worked up over a troublesome genin. At this rate I'll be exhausted by morning._ He leaned with his back against the wall, still staring at her door. He couldn't make out the wood texture in the darkness – could barely make out the wood itself. Or the sounds of soft breathing on the other side. His own beating heart drowned it out.

He hated night time.

Slowly, he sank down to a sitting position and rested his head on the wall. He closed his eyes, and tried to tune out everything but the lack of sound in the room.

He woke with a start, automatically taking stock of his surroundings. Hinata's door was shut, but he could hear the faint sound of footsteps shuffling around. That must have been what woke him. He ignored his body's complaints as he stood up and pulled his attention away from the door. It clearly wasn't seven yet, but he had preparations to make.

He'd already eaten by the time the clock hand slid to seven o'clock. He knew Hinata hadn't been out of her room since he'd caught her, but he still found himself checking all the food before eating it. As if she'd had the forethought to poison more than just the tea. He shook his head at the thought and glanced at the clock. It was time. In the hallway, Hinata's door slowly eased open, and Deidara moved to lean against the counter on the far wall. He had full view of the room and the freedom to move quickly should anything happen.

A wordless nod directed Hinata to the bowl of plain rice that sat on the table when the girl arrived in the room. She ate silently. He pretended not to watch, and again took note of her posture. Had she not received any training at all on being prepared? She was from a _shinobi_ _clan_ , for Tsuchikage's sake!

When she was finished eating, Hinata set her chopsticks down carefully and glanced at him – for the first time since walking in.

"Leave it." Pushing off of the counter, Deidara motioned for her to precede him out the door. "We're going to the work room, un." She nodded, though only slightly, and began walking down the hall. _She's nervous,_ he thought, eyeing her barely-shaking fingers. He smirked to himself. _She should be._

They were in the work room now (finally), and Deidara pointedly ignored the still-unfinished portrait that lay propped against the wall as he brushed past Hinata to the center of the room. Hinata's eyes lingered, and she paused just inside the door. Deidara wondered what she saw, standing there and staring at herself.

He found a corner to sit in and pulled over a chair before again turning his attention to her. She was still standing in the same place. "Are you going to train or just stand there and stare?" The girl started at his voice and backed away from the painting, stammering an apology. That was going to get annoying _very_ fast.

He waved off her apologies. "Just start a training routine you use a lot." She stared at him, hesitated ( _like a deer in the headlights),_ then moved to one wall and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she began to move in a slow, rhythmic pattern that picked up speed as he watched.

' _How pretty,_ ' he thought as he watched her spin gracefully around the room. ' _Too bad her profession isn't dancing._ His mouth twisted upwards at that, and his eyes strayed away from her to the floor and walls. The room wasn't very neat. The floor was strewn with objects- some useful for painting and some junk he'd found left by the previous owners of the house. He picked up one of the latter items thoughtfully. Then he took aim, and threw.

It hit Hinata right below her left knee. She stumbled, stopping dead in her tracks and glancing around curiously. To her credit, she didn't cry out in pain. Deidara scowled at her when she glanced at him, and picked up another object. "I never told you to stop, un. You gonna do that in the middle of a real fight, too?" She blushed in embarrassment.

"…No. I-I'll keep going." And she did.

"Stop looking down all the time, un. Pay attention to your surroundings. You do know how to do that, right?" Hinata's mouth opened to respond, but she stopped and glanced down - only to snap her head up when she realized what she was doing. She didn't look at him, but her shoulders were slumped and she was fidgeting again. He sighed. "And stop getting depressed when I correct you, un. You're a very perceptive girl. You just don't use that enough."

"Yes." He'd barely heard her when she said that, but her shoulders straightened slightly. That was progress. Encouragement seemed to work on her more than it did on most.

"Your problem is you're not flexible. You can't improvise if something comes up." They were back in the work room - now a training room, and Hinata had just succeeded in dodging her first projectile. She stood still now; very pointedly _not_ looking at the floor, but still avoiding his eyes. "And you can't stop in your tracks, either, just because you're so overjoyed at having actually dodged something. You're not training with your little genin friends – your opponent isn't going to stop to congratulate you on your success." She flushed a bit at that.

Later, during supper, he casually kicked over her chair as he walked past. She fell with a cry, spilling rice and vegetables over herself and the floor. When she looked up at him in hurt confusion he scowled at her. "A shinobi should be prepared for everything, un. You should be able to keep your balance if you're caught off guard at the table, un."

She flushed at that, of course, and looked down. Then snapped her head back up and stared at the counter in front of her. "Constant vigilance," she murmured to herself and, amazingly, chuckled, "yes."

...This was new. Had someone given her this advice before? "What's that?"

"Just something a relative always says." She put a hand on the table and pulled herself up. "I...hadn't realized how many little things I was doing wrong before now. I thought...I suppose I thought that being a shinobi...that I was lacking something vital that I needed to do well. But...but it's really just a lot of little things I need to do. Right?" She looked at him then, with hope in her eyes, and Deidara couldn't help but start to laugh.

"If it helps you to think of it that way, then be my guest, un." He reached out and ruffled her hair once then, still grinning, moved to lean against the counter. "And you should get up right away after being knocked over, unless you have a reason not to."

"Oh...yes." A pause. "Thank you. For doing this."

He grinned even wider at that, and idly picked up a clay piece. "Not like I have anything else to do, un."

The night of Hinata's first day of training, Deidara had her recount her experiences as a shinobi. Hinata did so, describing her teammates and her trainers. leaving out, Deidara noticed, some key information. She faltered only when she came to her last mission. Deidara asked her why she failed it. Hinata almost didn't answer. He scoffed at that. "You've just coasted along until now, haven't you, relying on your teammates. That doesn't work in real life. The only one you can count on is yourself. Not your family, not your teammates, and not some blond brat who doesn't even know your name. If you want to be strong, you have to do it on your own and for yourself." He repeated that throughout her training, drilling into her that she couldn't rely on her team mates. "You need to trust her judgement more. Don't second-guess yourself."

Three days into her training he was fed up with her fidgeting. He gave her a kunai, and told her that if she must constantly move her hands then she might as well do something useful with them. Her kunai handling began to improve dramatically.

Five days into her training he realized just how useful her bloodlimit was at reconnaissance. He had her practice being unseen. And he taught her how to make explosive tags, and how to hide them effectively.

Eight days into training he put diluted poisons in part of her meal. One night of misery was very effective at promoting poison-recognition.

Eleven days into training she asked, politely, to see his bloodlimit. When he shrugged her off, she explained what it looked like to her eyes. Deidara realized, privately, that he hadn't known that. He showed her his hands.

On the thirteenth day the snow had receded enough for Deidara to push the window open. The radio asked that everyone help out with clearing the roads, in order to allow business to resume tomorrow. He scoffed and shut it off – like he'd really spend the day breaking his back for a town he'd be leaving soon. He turned to Hinata and frowned when he saw her putting on a jacket.

"I want to help," she told him, quite sincerely. He'd told her fine, he didn't care. And it occurred to him that this meant he was free for the day. He grinned then, realizing just how long it had been since he'd run free outside.

They didn't train at all that day. Hinata came back first, and Deidara was surprised to find her waiting for him when he'd returned from his flight. She rose when he entered, a relieved expression on her face that faded a bit at the look he gave her. "I...I thought that maybe you weren't coming back," she explained quietly, though her eyes never dropped. He shook his head.

"My stuff is still here, isn't it? I just went for a walk, un." Then he wondered why he felt the need to explain that to her. It wasn't like it was any of her business where he went. "Anyway, it's late. I have to get back to work tomorrow, so...I guess your training is finished."

He eyes widened at that. "I..." She glanced away. "Have I...improved at all?"

He looked at her and realized that she really wanted an answer to that. "...Yeah. You're fine. Just don't slack off again when I'm gone."

She was quiet the next morning as he packed the completed painting away, ready to present it to his 'client.' He slung the pack over his shoulder and tossed her his spare jacket. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "I'm walking you to the hotel so you can give it back, un. And I'm not going to carry you if you collapse again."

She put the coat on, and followed him out the door.

Hinata was surprised when she was immediately waved through Konoha's gate. She'd been expected back two weeks ago – most shinobi would have been declared missing by then. She stopped in front of the Hyuuga Compound, and for several minutes just stared at the name of her clan etched carefully into the wall. The last two weeks seemed so far away in the light of her home. She would be greeted by her father, who would scold her for failing her mission. Hanabi would be with him, most likely, and would stand there silently as their father delivered his lecture. In some ways that was worse, because a little sister was supposed to look up to her elder sister, but Hinata had done nothing to warrant that. Neji would come in later, looking awkward, and tell her not to push herself. And everyone would want to know why she was late. At least she had a legitimate excuse for that; all shinobi were briefed on the storms that sometimes plagued Snow Country before being sent there, and were advised to seek shelter if caught in one of them.

She took a deep breath. One hand fell to her pocket, where she'd written down reminders of what she'd learned the past two weeks. Deidara had told her not to bow her head. He'd spent weeks training her. She wouldn't allow that to go to waste. As she reached out to the Compound door, it suddenly flew open. Hinata stared up into the face of her father.

Hinata ducked her head. He had never come to greet her at the door before. Was she in more trouble than she'd thought, being late? Then she remembered Deidara's words, _stop looking down all the time_ , and pulled her head up. She stared straight ahead, at her father's chest. "I...I apologize for my lateness, father."

She saw him look to the side, then. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Hiashi cleared his throat. "The Hokage will want to see you early tomorrow morning for debriefing. And I expect a full explanation on the reasons for your lateness." His voice held no emotion, but to Hinata it seemed softer than it usually was.

That night Hiashi called her aside after the meal. She stared at his shoulder, wondering what he had to say. Hiashi didn't speak for several seconds. When he did, the words came slowly, as if forced out of his throat. "I wanted to clarify...what I said earlier. Even if you fail a mission, you are still a Hyuuga. I...we...still expect you to report back afterwards." Hinata's eyes widened. Had her father thought that she'd followed his order then, and that was why she hadn't come back? That was...well, she supposed that would have been the case had Deidara not found her. Perhaps...would her father have gone looking for her if she hadn't returned?

Hiashi shifted in front of her, and she realized she hadn't responded. Hinata swallowed, and met her father's eyes. "I understand."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Good."

A week later, Shino told her about a recent assassination in Snow Country. A very important official, apparently. He was killed in the same village she'd been staying in. The entire house, Shino said, had been blown up. The body of the official was barely recognizable, clutching several of the art pieces he'd been so fond of during life. Had Hinata encountered anything suspicious when she was staying in the village?

"No," she said, looking out into the forest. "I didn't see anything."

As always, though he knew he shouldn't, Deidara returned to the scene of his art. The building was long gone, but most of the fires that had erupted during the explosion still burned. It was still too soon after the snow-in. There was no point in freezing to death to put out a fire in a building nobody owned anymore. And the art collector hadn't been well-liked.

He stood alone at the end of what had once been a beautiful garden. The building had been more so – the likes of which he hadn't seen since he'd left home all those years ago. And now it was nothing. In a year it would be gone; replaced, no doubt, by something else. Deidara only wished he'd been able to see the look in the collector's face as he realized that the building he'd been so proud of was crumbling.

He glanced to the side and saw a pile of blackened objects on the ground nearby. Had the man thrown them out the window to save them? That wouldn't do. Some of them might still be salvageable, and that meant the man's effort hadn't been in vain. Deidara walked over and kicked the pile, glancing over the paintings in the rubble. He stopped when he saw a familiar portrait staring back at him – it was scorched along the top-right corner, but otherwise intact. Deidara looked at it for a second, then carefully picked up a burning piece of wood and pressed it to the rest of the painting. He smiled slightly as it darkened and peeled until it was just another smouldering piece of wreckage.

In truth, Deidara didn't much like paintings. To him, they were dull mirrors that sought to capture and hold one moment of a person's life for eternity, when true beauty lay in watching that person _move_ in response to life, and ever-towards their final, brilliant climax. His smile widened. He would enjoy watching this Hinata's life progress from here on out.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on fanfiction.net on 02-10-07. Completed on 02-25-10


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